


Tell Me

by katiebour



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation in Shower, Oral Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebour/pseuds/katiebour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the DA High RP After Hours section on Tumblr.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell Me

She’d never imagined it like this.

He was warm, so warm, and she clung to his shirt as his lips brushed expertly over hers, as he sucked gently on her lower lip, stealing her breath.

Was it the last vestiges of the alcohol, or the way his mouth slanted over hers that was making her dizzy?

She couldn’t tell, and didn’t care, as he pulled small, soft sounds from her with every slow lap of his tongue, fingers strong against the curve of her jaw.

And then, slowly, he stopped, pulling away, just an inch, his breath warm against her mouth.

“…I’m sorry,” he said, voice low and rough. “I shouldn’t do this.”

She opened her eyes just enough to see that he was looking at her, his half-lidded silver-grey gaze intense.

Gold and silver clashed, and she pulled on his shirt. “I want you to,” she whispered, and leaned forward, closing the distance between them, laying a feather-soft kiss on his mouth.

“Oh, Maker,” he said against her mouth, and then he was pushing her down onto the couch, her heart thundering as he kissed her.

He was strong, so strong, and so was she, but she’d never been a match for him, and somehow the knowledge that he _could_ keep her there, if he wanted to, was incredibly exciting. Not that he would, of course- he was a good man, an honorable one, and the moment she asked him to stop, he would.

She wasn’t going to ask, because she hadn’t known she wanted this, needed this, until now.

She wrapped her arms around his back, fingers rucking up the thin t-shirt material under her fingers, touching the warm, smooth skin of his back. He made a low, needy sound, and tilted her head back, his mouth leaving hers before he licked the frantic pulse beating in her throat.

She moaned then, and he settled himself more thoroughly between her thighs, her left leg off the edge of the couch, toes touching the floor, and when she felt him pressed against her core she whimpered.

“Do you want-“ he whispered, pausing, “Do you want me to stop?”

She arched her hips up against him instinctually in answer. “No, please-“

And when he rolled his hips against hers she moved her hands down, sliding over the taut denim of his jeans, cupping his ass and pulling him as close as he could get.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped.

He sat up long enough to pull the t-shirt over his head, revealing the strong, muscled lines of his chest, the dark hair that covered him and trailed down, tantalizingly, to his belly button.

A moment later he was helping her pull off her own too-large shirt- she hadn’t bothered with her bra after the shower, and once the shirt was off, he ran long, tapered fingers up her sides.

“As much as I’m coming to love this couch, I don’t have protection down here,” he said, bluntly. “And as much as I’d love to stay here, to taste you and touch you and take you, we either need to stop or move upstairs.”

He smoothed his hands over her breasts, lightly, palming her taut nipples before running a callused thumb gently over the sensitive nub.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, bending down and suckling gently on one nipple.

She cried out, shocked and aroused at the first wet touch of tongue, the heat of his mouth, and buried her hands in his coal-black hair.

“Tell me-“ he nipped at her- “To take you upstairs and make love to you.” He moved to tongue her other nipple, the other peak hard and wet in the cold air. “To be the first man inside you. Tell me.”

Her panties were soaked, and she wanted him to take her to his bed, take them off, take her, make love to her.

“Take me-“ he bit, gently, “Ahh, oh, god, Nate, take me upstairs, please.”

“Tell me,” he said, voice rough and low and needy, “Tell me to take you to my bed, and make you come with my mouth, my fingers inside you.”

“Please,” she begged.

***************

He sat up, running a hand shakily through his hair.

“Your wish is my command,” he said, and standing, offered her a hand.

She took it, and he pulled her effortlessly to him, keeping her off-balance, then bending down to kiss her again.

When he released her, gently, they were both out of breath, flushed. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, the tip of his tongue darting out to tease briefly.

“Upstairs,” he said, eyes on hers, then led her up the carpeted steps, pulling her into his bedroom.

It was simple, minimalist, tidy- a low dresser, a plain jute rug on the floor, tall windows with vertical blinds swaying gently, and the large, modern four-poster bed.

He stepped into the adjoining bathroom, coming back with a large, dark towel. Setting it on the bed he pulled her in for a kiss, dispelling some of the momentary nervousness she was feeling.

“Ok?” he said, tipping her chin up to look her in the eye.

She nodded. “I didn’t picture you as the four-poster type,” she said, for lack of better conversation.

The brief, wicked smile he flashed her made her blush.

“I’ll tell you why I have a four-poster bed-” he said, then bent down, tilted her head to the side, and pressed a kiss to her throat- “another time.”

She slid her arms around him, enjoying the feel of his bare skin under her fingertips. “I’m guessing it’s not-“ he sucked, and she leaned back, gasping- “purely decorative.”

“Ropes,” he said, then bit, gently, before running over the bite with his tongue- “Silk ropes. Next time.”

He pushed her back, gently, until the backs of her calves hit the bed, and he moved his hands to the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants, pulling them over her hips and letting them fall to the floor.

A second later his fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and tugging them down over her ass, said, “sit down, sweetheart.”

She did, and he slid the panties over her legs, kneeling and then lifting each of her legs just enough to pull off the little bit of fabric.

She leaned back on her hands, unsure of what to do next, and when his hands pulled her hips forward to the edge of the bed, pushing her thighs gently aside, she relaxed, trusting him.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, before flashing her a quicksilver glance. Whatever he saw pleased him, and when he leaned in, parting the damp curls and soft folds of her sex, her head fell back, eyes closed.

Dear _Maker_ , she hadn’t known it would be like this.

His _tongue_ -

She gripped the bedsheets for dear life, moans and cries and _yes_ and _more_ and incoherent pleadings as he pleasured her in a way she hadn’t even _imagined_.

He slipped a finger along her slit, and when a fingertip eased inside, he bit out a choked _so tight,_ gentle and thorough and slow.

And when a second fingertip joined the first, his mouth hot and oh, so skilled, she fell apart, spasming around those fingers as she cried out his name.

************

He slowed down as she rode out the last of her orgasm, and when he gently pulled out his two fingertips, she drew in a deep, shaky breath, opening her eyes to find him standing up, the look in his eyes making her shiver.

He leaned in and kissed her, the salt scent and taste of herself on his mouth making her blush.

“Feel good?” he said, quietly, and she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” she whispered against his skin, feeling his hand slide an idle caress over her arm.

“Mmn,” he said, “There’s more, sweetheart. Or-“ he paused, “Do you want to stop there? We don’t have to-“

She raised her head and drew one hand up to trace the line of his jaw.

“I want _you_ , all of you,” she said, shyly. “I want you to feel as good as you made me feel.”

He kissed her forehead, then each cheek, then slowly pressed his lips to hers. “Lay back, then,” he said, and she obeyed, scooting back.

He stood up, unbuttoning his jeans, and pushed them over his hips, along with the boxers he wore underneath. He bent over to step out of them, hair falling in his face, and she felt as though she’d never seen anyone as beautiful in her life.

Nude, he crawled on the bed next to her, laying on his side, facing her, resting on his elbow.

She looked, really looked, from the top of his head to the strong lines of his throat, over the line of his collarbone and along his chest. Reaching out, she smoothed her fingers into the hair that dusted his chest, fingertips warm on his stomach as she followed it down, down with her eyes and her hands, past the indentation of his belly button to where the hair grew coarse and curly, to the part of him that she’d never seen before, ached to touch, to discover the texture, to explore the glorious curve-

He took her hand, and guiding it down to where she was too shy to touch, curled her hand around him. He exhaled softly at her touch, showing her how to stroke him, once, twice, his eyes nearly molten as he watched.

Stilling her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingertips, making her shiver.

“I want to be inside you,” he said, and color bloomed in her cheeks.

He turned over and opened a drawer, pulling out a condom, grabbed the towel behind him and turned back to her. Sitting up, he smoothed the latex over his cock while she watched, curious, languid from orgasm yet still a bit nervous. He took the towel, and with a quick _lift your hips_ slid it underneath her, then moved to kneel between her legs, stroking a hand over her knee and up to the wet juncture of her sex, the light touch making her suck in a breath, still so sensitive. He leaned over her, and she felt him, the tip of him at her entrance, his hand guiding it inside, and when he pressed forward, slowly, her eyes widened.

Maker, he was…he was _inside_ her, like his fingers, but fuller, better, and even with just the tip, she wanted…

“Nate, _more_ ,” she gasped, and felt as much as heard his whispered _slowly, sweetheart, we’ll get there_.

He put his arms to either side of her, and pushed, slowly, a little give, a little take, deeper, deeper-

She felt it the moment he took her, and drew in a breath, her body tensed against the single sharp pinch.

He stilled, waiting, with an apologetic brush of lips, his breath ragged.

She put her arms around him, her friend, her teacher, her lover, and urged him deeper.

When he was fully inside, sheathed to the hilt, he buried his face in her neck, hands sliding underneath the pillow, and at the first short, slow stroke, they moaned together.

It was as if they were one, no telling where she ended and he began, deep inside, just a faint, dull ache and the movement, the friction, the sensation intimate, incredible.

He moved his head to look at her, pulling a hand from underneath the pillow to smooth a thumb across her cheek.

“Ok?” he asked, and at the slow, gentle rock of his hips she arched instinctually against him, watching his eyes close in ecstasy.

“You feel _amazing_ ,” he said softly, “so tight, Maker, and so hot and ready for me. That’s it- move with me-“

And she did, aching for him every time he pulled back, unable to hold back the little cries of pleasure as he filled her again, again, every stroke sweet torture.

And when he began to move faster, the muscles in his back and buttocks flexing under her hands as he made love to her, she closed her eyes and let her head fall to the side, focusing on the feeling between the two of them, pace speeding, the low sounds he made mingling with her own cries, the mattress creaking in time with their movements.

And when he tensed in her arms, a few final deep, deep thrusts as he shuddered, crying out his release, she held him tight, her Nate, hers, as much as she was his.

They rested that way for a few minutes, his weight comfortably pressing her into the bed, together, relaxed.

“Tell me,” he said, at last, raising his head to look at her.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” she said, truthfully.

“And?” he said, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“You tell me first,” she said, looking up into his eyes.

He did.


	2. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Kit/Nate smut, after judo practice. :) In which Nate's dom tendencies come out, just a bit. :D

He smiled at her and held the door open- always a gentleman, Nathaniel Howe. Not because she couldn’t do it for herself, but because _he_ could do it for _her._ She leaned back against the leather, slightly sweaty from practice, something quietly elegant on the stereo. He toyed idly with her fingers during the drive, and they stayed like that, in a comfortable silence, tired and yet electrified in each other’s presence.

Two hours of practice that felt more like _foreplay,_ even though he was no easy taskmaster, determined to teach her to the utmost of his ability. After she’d disarmed him twelve times in a row of the wooden prop in the shape of a gun, both of them panting slightly, they’d called it good and headed out. She’d helped him put away the mats, turning out the lights and locking the doors, before heading out to the deserted back lot where he parked.

The moment his garage door closed, he leaned in, claiming her with a fierce kiss. “I’ve been wanting that all afternoon,” he said, voice rough, and she finger-combed his hair away from his face, suddenly shy. “Inside,” he ordered, and she opened the door, stepping out on legs that felt weak with desire. He stepped in front to unlock the door, and then turning to her, cradled her face, kissing her forehead, her nose, her chin, her lips. “Let’s play a game,” he said, “I tell you what to take off, and you do as I say, all the way to the shower.” She shivered under the intensity of his eyes, and nodded. “Now turn around, and go.” She turned, pushing open the door and walking obediently, slowly into the foyer, listening behind her for his voice.

“Belt,” he said, and she fumbled with the tie, unwinding it quickly from her waist with each slow step, dropping it on the floor. A few more steps- “Shoes and socks,” he said, and she toed off the shoes, stopping briefly by the couch to brace herself, pulling off her socks. She heard a sound and turned to see that he was echoing her, black belt on the ground, his own shoes and socks off. “Keep going,” he ordered, and she turned around and took the next few steps.

“Pants,” he said, and she undid the tie, letting them fall to the ground and stepping out, carefully. “Panties,” was the next command, and she blushed a bit, pulling off the fabric and letting it fall to the ground. She was bare from toes to waist, only the length of her _gi_ jacket hiding the curve of her buttocks from his gaze. A few steps more- “Jacket,” and his voice was _definitely_ rough now, and she wanted to turn around, and see if he was nearly as bare as she, if he was hard with wanting her, watching her-

She slid the sleeves of the jacket off and let it fall, clad now only in t-shirt and bra, and heard his breath catch. She was having trouble drawing a full lungful of air, herself.

Up the stairs- “Shirt,” he said, and she stopped to pull it over her head, dropping it to the floor. A feather-light touch on the inside of her thigh made her jump and quiver- _Maker,_ he was a tease-

“You like that, don’t you,” he said, voice dark and full of promise. “Knowing I’m behind you, touching you, wanting you.” A hand curved over her buttock, fingertips pressing in possessively. “Keep going.”

She was almost to the bathroom, now- “Bra,” he said, and she unhooked it, letting it fall before turning in defiance of his orders, because they were nearly there, and if she didn’t touch him she’d go _insane-_

“It’s like that, is it,” he said, one eyebrow arched, and Maker, he was bare, and hard, and so beautiful-

In the next moment he pressed her to the wall, tipping her chin up to look at him. “Naughty girl,” he said, before capturing her mouth with his own, the wall flat behind her, he, muscled and strong in front of her, hot and curved against her stomach-

She whimpered when he tilted her head to the side, mouth hot on her neck, then down to her shoulder, teeth, nibbling, then sucking, _hard-_

He was going to leave a mark, no doubt, and she didn’t care at _all._

He shifted a little, angling just a bit, one hand hefting her thigh to his waist, and then-

She let out a strangled moan as he teased her entrance with the head of his cock, a delicious, dangerous game that they toyed with, never quite daring, but the simple possibility of him inside her with no barrier was enough to make her whimper and writhe.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he whispered in her ear, “For me to be inside you, skin-to-skin, fill you with my come-“

She let out a strangled moan and he teased her for a few more moments, then released her. “Into the shower,” he ordered, and she complied, stepping into his bathroom and turning the water on, then stepping inside.

He was right behind her, and she turned, putting her arms around his neck, laying small kitten-kisses along his jaw. As the water spilled over them, he captured her mouth with his, and the slow, small, insistent thrusts of his hips rubbed his hardness against her belly.

He released her long enough for both of them to wash their hair; she grinned at the sight of him, long black locks wet with suds, her own short red hair easily soaped and washed in comparison.

When he applied then rinsed the conditioner from his hair, she stood, momentarily transfixed by the sight of him, eyes closed, head tilted back, streams of water cascading over his face and down his neck, running in rivulets over his muscled frame.

He washed her back, his big hands gliding the soap over every inch of her, caressing the curve of her buttocks, the muscles in her legs, gently soaping the sodden red curls at the junction of her sex, one finger between her folds to play with her clit. She clutched at his shoulders while he toyed with her, and when they switched places rinsed off the soap before it could irritate.

And then it was her turn to run the soap over him, and Maker, he was beautiful, every inch from his head to his toes, muscles and sinew and strength and utterly masculine. She soaped the hair on his chest, running her fingers through it with a smile, his eyes half-lidded as she caressed him.

His back was so strong, wide shoulders narrowing to his waist, the flare of his buttocks, the curve of his cock. She kissed his shoulder as the water rinsed away the salt of sweat from their practice earlier, the heat of desire comfortable embers in the nearness of one another, waiting to be rekindled once they got out of the shower.

Big hands cradled her jaw, and tilted her head up gently he kissed her, the sweetness of it undoing her. He was hot and cold, rough and tender, a man of extremes, of changing moods, and he’d gone from fiery to gentle in the blink of an eye.

She whispered it to him, the words that had passed between them on that night, the private truth that neither of them had fully realized until fate gave them to one another.

He said them back, words that made him vulnerable in her arms, the man who’d had many lovers, few friends and fewer loves, at once elevated and isolated by the circumstances of his family.

But here it was just them, water washing away the hurts of the day, leaving just the two of them in each other’s arms, a tiny sanctuary where a man and a woman clung to each other, needing nothing else.

They got out of the shower, drying off with his large, fluffy grey towels, barely dry before he pulled her into the bedroom.

She crawled onto the bed, and he followed a moment later, laying her back and parting her legs before moving to taste her.

When he had her breathless and moaning, she tugged at his wet hair; she wanted-

Maker, the things she wanted to do to him.

He gave her one last lick before lifting his head to look at her, fingers slipping in-between to continue where his mouth had left off.

“Can I-“ she blushed- it was one thing to do it, but another to talk about it, and she was still a bit shy- “Can I- _oh god Nate-_ “ she choked out as his fingers distracted her- “Can I touch you, please?”

It wasn’t quite what she wanted, but she didn’t know how to ask, and his eyes had gone molten, dark silver, intense as he licked the salt of her off of his lips.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee, he moved to the other side of the bed, shifting a few pillows and laying back, nearly sitting up.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, nervously, and he gave her a slow smile.

“Tinka, if you’re going to touch me, I don’t intend to miss a second of it,” he said, rubbing a hand idly over his belly.

He was going to- to watch. Oh.

She knelt next to him, blushing, and wrapped a hand around him the way he’d shown her. She focused on watching the movement of her hand, the slide of his hard length under her touch, registering the catch in his breath. She didn’t dare look up, because he was _watching_ her touch him, and even as the thought made her ache with want, she felt- shy. Idiotic to feel shy in front of a man she’d been seeing for weeks, had made love with on numerous occasions, but there it was.

He skimmed a hand over her thigh, shifting a little to let her cup his balls, a gentle touch, always gentle, the coarse black hair a study in contrast to the smooth velvet of his cock.

“Can I put my mouth on you?” she asked, shyly, finding her answer in the way his fingers gripped her thigh, momentarily, the hitch in his breathing. “Watch your teeth,” was the only reply he gave, and gathering her courage, she knelt over him, bending down to lick the head. He was clean from the shower- the scent of soap and the faint hint of his own musk the only flavors to meet her questing tongue.

Daringly, she drew the head into her mouth, watching her teeth, and heard him groan over her.

“Maker, ‘Tinka, you look-“ she sucked, just a little, and heard him gasp.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the _feel_ of him in her mouth, taking more in and then backing off, quickly figuring out a slow rhythm, urged on by his moans. He gasped when she rubbed the head against the roof of her mouth, keeping up the suction as she pulled back, then letting go long enough to take him back in.

His hand smoothed over her back, her buttocks, and she tasted a hint of salt, a taste of him. Her jaw was beginning to ache, just a bit, and when he smoothed fingers over her cheek she came off him carefully.

She met his eyes, finally, sitting back on her heels, and he smiled, reaching out to bring her hand to his lips. “The things you do to me,” he said against her knuckles, and letting her hand go, turned to the bedside table, getting a condom and tearing open the foil packet, unrolling it over his length.

Kneeling on the bed, he pulled her hips to him, watching her as he pushed slowly, so slowly inside.

He usually made her come with his mouth before entering her, and the feeling of him inside when she was so close was- indescribable.

“Nate,” she moaned raggedly, and he answered with rocking movements of his hips, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

And Maker, he was still _watching_ her, her fingers tangled in the bedsheets as he pushed her closer to orgasm.

“I want to see you when you come,” he panted, “Want to feel you come around my cock. Come for me.”

And she was so close, and suddenly, she was there, and he was so deep inside, and it felt so good, and she wanted more, deeper, harder, _now-_

“Oh god Nate I’m going to-“ she gasped, and he gritted out a curse, speeding up, thrusts that rocked her into the bed, and it was so good, _so_ good-

She cried out her orgasm, he following a second later, his hand gripping her thigh as he trembled, eyes shut as he buried himself as deeply as he could go, she arching up against him in response.

His fingers stilled, and he leaned over her, pressing her into the bed, letting out a ragged breath, kissing her mouth, her cheek, nudging her aside to kiss her from jaw to neck.

She wrapped her arms around him and kept him there, just for a little bit, joined to her, their heartbeats slowing.

And then he pulled out, standing up and taking care of the condom before coming back to bed, he lay at her side, propped up on an elbow, running fingertips lightly over her skin for a few moments. Golden and silver eyes met, and she smiled, seeing an answering smile from him. They said nothing, needed to say nothing, and when he lay down, arm around her waist, she reached out, tracing the planes of his face, strong eyebrows, a day’s worth of stubble, the little patch of hair underneath that sexy lower lip.

She cuddled on his shoulder as he drew the blankets around them, and running her fingers idly through the hair on his chest, closed her eyes and fell asleep to the slow and steady beat of his heart.


End file.
